


love is soup on the stove

by thrakaboom



Category: X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Foster Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Introspection, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrakaboom/pseuds/thrakaboom
Summary: In the period Scott thought Madelyn, Nathan, and Warren were all dead at the same time he teaches Rusty how to make soup. Sometimes soup is more than soup.Lots of Scott introspection and being a foster father.
Relationships: Scott Summers & Rusty Collins
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	love is soup on the stove

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure the exact issue numbers, but this is set during the period in X-Factor (1986) by Louise Simonson where everyone thought that Warren had killed himself and before they met Warren as Archangel. Scott was under the impression that Madelyn and Nathan were also dead at the time. 
> 
> This was supposed to be only 500 words of fluff. I don't know what happened. 
> 
> Cable is referred to as Nathan Christopher bc they were flip flopping between the two at the time.

Scott dragged himself to the X-Factor complex's kitchen, tired and bruised from punishing himself in the training room. He could hear Jean and Bobby in his head telling him not to blame himself, but if he had been there he would have been able to protect Mady and the baby. He could have talked Warren down. How could this be anything but his fault? Maybe, maybe all he knew how to do was fight-- be Charles Xavier's soldier. So he had punished himself to the point of exhaustion and past it in their training room. Besides, he had become too reliant on his powers recently. Note to self, Scott thought, teach the new girl- Tabitha was her name, right? He knew she preferred Boom-Boom- not to rely so much on her powers. The poor girl, she had seen him having an episode out on the roof and he had probably frightened her and-

He blinked twice in realization that he wasn't alone. The kitchen had the orange glow that indicated either sunrise or sunset. Scott couldn't bring himself to remember when he had gone to the training room or how long he had been in there other than by the starts of an itch from the stubble on his chin. But that didn't help- it could be either still. Rusty's presence by the stove wasn't much of an indication either. The boy was an early riser, even months after his abandoning the Navy life. It was with bleariness, like a sleepwalker, that Scott realized he was cooking. There was a smell- not quite of burning, but close. Rusty had a pot in his hands, his powers producing a gentle flame. 

"What are you making?"

Rusty startled, flames erupting from his hands for just a moment and causing him to drop the pot. It clattered to the ground, the contents of sloppily cut vegetables and water splashing onto the ground. Scott made another mental note- train Rusty in more awareness of his surroundings. An attack could come from anywhere, at anytime. Rusty scrambled to the ground with a dishcloth and a sheepish look on his face as he mopped up his mess. "Oh! Scott! I was just trying to make soup. my mom, before she, she used to make soup to bring over to the families whenever someone-- nevermind, it was dumb."

"Soup requires patience and time," was all Scott could think of to say.

He stood there for a moment before getting on all fours to help Rusty dump the soggy vegetables into the sink. He washed his hands methodically and looked at the work station Rusty had set up for himself. It was just a cutting board and some vegetables- Scott didn't even see any salt out. Scott didn't have to be an empath to feel the shame radiating off of Rusty, who was hovering behind him. Great job, Summers, Scott thought. You abandon your son for months before finding him dead and then you belittle the boy you took in when all he wanted was to be helpful. He could almost see the Professor tsking at him in the edge of his vision, but Scott shook his head once before whatever illusion his damaging brain was coming up with could lodge itself in. 

"It's a good idea, Rusty," Scott said, looking at the boy in the reflection of the window above the sink. "We'll have something to come home to after- after Warren's wake. Good thinking ahead." Scott could hear the flatness of his affect, but Rusty's shoulder's dropped slightly in relief.

"Great." Rusty was twirling the now empty pot in his hands. "I'll get more water, then." 

He was so desperate to please and Scott's stomach shifted at the familiarity. Rusty was the oldest of the children, sure, but had they been putting too much responsibility on him by making him the de facto caretaker of the younger children, and even on occasion the adults? Had they been pushing him too much in training? Mutants needed discipline with their powers and ability to protect themselves, but Scott had no desire to turn the boy into a soldier- or more of one than the Navy had already made him, anyways. Scott, of course, had been when he was Rusty's age- both responsible for all the others and fighting Charles Xavier's battles for him. But... he and Mady- he and Mady hadn't wanted that for Nathan Christopher. He shouldn't want that for Rusty either. Wasn't the point of X-Factor to teach these young mutants to control their powers so they could live normal lives- not to have to live like he, Hank, Bobby and Jean? To not meet an early death like Warren?

"Chop up the rest of the onion there and I'll start on the carrots. Water doesn't come until later." Steps, Scott liked steps. He knew what to do with steps. It was why he had always liked cooking- or hadn't minded it, at least. It was just steps and planning ahead until the food and the world where nice, sensical, and neatly controlled. He took out a second cutting board and washed the carrots. He glanced over at Rusty.

Rusty didn't have a bad technique, though there was some impatience in the way he chopped. Scott wondered if Rusty had always been impatient or if it had developed with his fire powers- mutants with elemental powers, especially fire, always seemed to be more impatient in Scott's observations. Or was it maybe a red-head characteristic- he knew Jean and Mady had always been impatient and while he wasn't entirely sure of the shade of Rusty's hair thanks to the ruby tint of his glasses, he was pretty sure Rusty also had red hair. Who knows- it could have been blonde, for all he knew.

(He remembers assuming Hank's fur had been a dark brown until being told it was blue.)

Rusty caught Scott looking at him and shrugged, gesturing to his eyes before breaking the gentle sound of chopping by speaking. "I used to cry whenever I chopped onions, right? But ever since I got my powers- zip." Rusty's eyes were as dry as when Scott had walked in. "Kinda weird, huh?"

"sometimes mutations can affect the body in unexpected ways," Scott said mildly, handing Rusty the pot to dump his freshly chopped onions in. "Bobby used to get sick with any sort of spice. Here, get some butter, salt, and spices- he still can't eat hot sauce without having to ice up after."

Rusty paused, onions falling from his hands into the pot. "Wait, if Bobby can't eat spice, why are we putting it in the soup?"

For the first time in days, maybe weeks- he couldn't remember- the corner of Scott's mouth twitched. He's grown out of it mostly, Rus, don't worry." Scott dropped the carrots in while Rusty got what he was sent him to fetch. Scott's hand hovered over the stove's dial but- it was gas and there was no reason not to use now as a little training session to see if Rusty could control his powers enough to have the flames low. The Professor had always been sneaking little lessons with control of their powers in wherever he could when Scott was a kid. It couldn't hurt.

Scott instructed Rusty with the butter and spices and found himself- not calm, but comfortable in the monotony. For a moment he had a fleeting thought- but no. His son was dead. "Put the burner on low," Scott said and was unsure if he imagined the tenseness in his voice. "Use your powers." He paused, wondering if he should say something encouraging. Rusty chewed his lip- he had started to be reliably able to control the volume of his flames but was still working with Bobby on controlling the temperature. Maybe it was being out of the training room or the clear practicality of what they were doing , but Rusty's flames only crackled for a second before calming to a low heat.

By the time Scott remembered he should verbalize his encouragement and not just nod it felt like too long had passed. "We wait for the onions to go clear, now. What meat were you going to use?" Or should he have said something anyways, Scott wondered, seeing the tiny hints of hurt and disappointment on Rusty's face. It had been good control of his powers, after all. Much, much better than Scott could do at his age. He cleared his throat and nodded to the tiny flame. "Good job."

Rusty stared at him, crossing and uncrossing his arms before straightening his spine. Scott had to remind himself the Navy had taught him that, not X-Factor. "Uh, I was just gonna make vegetable soup. I didn't have any meat out when you came in and I was cooking it..." Rusty trailed off when Scott turned his back on him to get the beef from the refrigerator. "Jeez, Cyclops, okay. Meat it is." Scott heard the running of the faucet, presumably Rusty was rinsing off the cutting boards. Scott scolded himself again- just be kinder to the boy, Summers. You don't have to be like the Professor, always slightly detached, and not everyone can read your mind like Jean could- of course, Jeannie couldn't do that anymore, either.

He set one pound of beef on Rusty's cutting board and began on the other pond himself. Warren had always enjoyed Scott's beef stew, he thought as he and Rusty chopped in silence. Scott tried to think of anything to say to the boy shifting next to him.

Rusty broke the silence in the end, hesitating in the act of cutting. "I'm sorry about your wife."

Scott hung his head and felt his shoulders rise and fall. He hadn't expected any of the children to acknowledge his loss. They had never met her, after all. Suddenly it felt all the more real. He hadn't expected-

"I'm... I'm going to miss Warren." Rusty's voice was as shaky as Scott felt. He was surprised, realizing that Rusty had tears in his eyes.

He suddenly remembered that it wasn't just he, Hank, Bobby, and Jean who were loosing Warren. The children were loosing their mentor, their guardian. Scott didn't think he had seen Rusty cry yet- he had been keeping it together for the other kids. How many times over the years had Scott kept it together for Alex, for the other kids at the orphanage, for the X-Men? Rusty was trying not to let his tears fall, hands shaking as he cut the beef. Maybe it was because he saw himself in Rusty- seventeen and both terribly grown and terribly young- or maybe he saw his child standing there. Scott acted on instinct, pulling Rusty to his chest and held the teenager as though he was Nathan Christopher and Scott was rocking him before putting him down to sleep. He held him like he was his son. Rusty melted into the hug, grasping at the back of Scott's shirt and hiccupped on his tears. They evaporated from the heat radiating off of Rusty's body moments after falling.

"I will too," Scott said softly and not for the first time wished he could will himself to cry so he could rid himself of the amounting emotion inside him. When he had first gotten his powers he had trained himself not to cry out of fear of what his tears might do. "I know. I will too. I'll miss him too."

Rusty pressed himself into Scott for a moment longer before pulling away like he was splashed with ice water. "The- the beef," he said.

"The beef," Scott agreed, nodding."

Rusty scrubbed at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve before turning back to his cutting board. Scott reached out his hand to him for a moment before pulling it back. "You aren't going to say anything about..." Rusty trailed off.

"I won't," Scott answered him, turning to finish his own portion of the beef. Lord knows was was similarly prideful when he was Rusty's age, similarly concerned with what his peers would think about him crying on his mentor. Scott caught a glimpse of himself in the window reflection. It was lighter out now, early morning after all. He needed a shave.

The two slid the beef chunks into the pot, letting them brown in the spice. Scott put in a tablespoon of flour after sending Rusty to fetch it from the pantry. "It helps thicken the broth," he explained at Rusty's questioning look. Both of them were pointedly not going to talk about what had transpired between them like true military children. It was easier, much easier, to focus on the steps of the soup.

"When did you learned to cook anyways?" Rusty asking, trying to change the subject from their mutual grief. He turned the faucet on at a gesture from Scott, pouring the measuring cup into the pot before refilling it. 

"My father had been teaching me and I just kept up with it." He had been planning on teaching Nathan Christopher when he was older. Planning on teaching his son. He could imagine the two of them standing in their kitchen in Alaska like... like this. 

"I never knew my old man," Rusty said so softly Scott barely heard it. His heart, for a moment, clenched. He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing, and looked at the soup pot. He stopped Rusty from pouring another cup of water with his other hand. 

"That's enough," he said and wondered absently if he had the disappointed tone the Professor always seemed to whenever he said those two words. He didn't want to.

"How can you tell?"

"I'm good with measurements and angles. Maybe it's a side affect of my mutation, like not crying when chopping onions is one of yours." Scott tried to tease lightly as though he were Hank, or Bobby, or even Warren. HE should leave the jokes to those three- those two he reminded himself.

"Really?" Rusty asked and gave a still slightly water laugh. "I bet you would be great at hustling pool." he used two fingers to increase the flames under the pot, letting them lick the copper bottom.

"I am." rusty stared back at Scott in disbelief, the formerly soggy expression on his face disappearing. "Remind me to show you later," Scott said, reaching around Rusty to place the lid on the pot. Scott knocked their shoulders together gently. He and Mady had been planning on teaching Nathan Christopher pool, too. She and Wolverine had been the only people who could keep up with him at it. There had been so many things he wanted to teach his son, wanted to share with his child.

"Now what?" Rusty asked, looking back at the soup.

"Time and patience," Scott replied gently.

**Author's Note:**

> Some day down the line Scott does teach Cable to make soup and play pool.


End file.
